Monday, 06:41, London
February slips past quietly
Like a once-known acquaintance
Light breaks the winter
Cracks the glaze
Prizes darkness
Days become long enough to hold
Pockets of warmth for the nose
Lifting plants to wake
An ancient return
Down and up
From the earth
Branch tips swell
Purple, brown, and black
Green-fingered clusters
Brave, testing
Tentative
Returning
The colour,
We feel it coming